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the plainest black dress. Her aphrodisiacs were perfume and sympathy.
    But, of course, her immediate acceptance chez Beaumont created a bit of a problem in the long run. Because of the sympathy, and the availability, lovely Lilian Beaumont had taken to knockingon
her
door in the last months, and was sitting here, at the moment, on Sarah’s shabby sofa, sniffing and tearful, and entirely unaware that her husband occasionally did the same, only without the tears. It was an awkward position, being confidante to both man and wife, but there it was, and Sarah had in a manner of speaking asked for it, so she would do the best she could and try to honour both, without betraying either. Provided they never coincided, which they never had (Richard either on his way out or on his way in, prefaced with a phone call; Lilian mid-morning and bored), and provided they didn’t want counselling, only an ear, any old ear, and they were each entirely self-absorbed, it was not that much of an imposition, but she had the feeling everything was going to get worse.
    Lilian sat where Sarah’s brother had last sat. At the back of Sarah’s mind was relief that Steven had gone so quietly, plus the nagging feeling that a lack of protest spelt trouble. Though why she should worry also nagged her. Steven had a perfectly adequate flat of his own; it was his fault that he dithered about getting anything more permanent. He had gone while she slept, leaving a note that stated, ‘Darling sis, I completely understand.’ That was ominous. Four days’ silence might not have been ominous since he frequently disappeared for weeks, or, as he had once, for years, but it was.
    ‘I don’t understand,’ Lilian was saying for the seventh time. ‘I just don’t . . .’
    ‘Understand?’ Sarah added.
    ‘Exactly.
You
understand, don’t you?’
    ‘Well, no. Everyone’s different, you see.’
    ‘Exactly. But some are more different to others. And he’s gone
very
different.’
    This was hardly profound chat, and going nowhere, so Sarah kept quiet and waited.
    ‘He’s gone so different, it’s as if he swanned off to anotherplanet and came back an alien. I mean completely different. But I’ve stayed the same.’
    Sarah thought that might be part of the problem. She was thinking this morning that Lilian was not exactly the sharpest knife in the box, although so easy on the eye one tended to forget that. It was obviously easier to listen to a musical voice speaking inanities through a perfect mouth than to listen to nonsense from someone less blessed. Lilian’s voice had the knack of making everything sound intelligent, a very appealing voice, with a deep, rich chuckle when she was amused, so infectious Sarah found herself longing to hear it.
    ‘What drew you to him in the first place?’
    ‘He made me laugh.’
    Ah yes, a man would turn somersaults to hear her laugh, invent jokes, make a fool of himself, simply to hear that sound. It had a powerful beauty, even to another woman, and if you added to that the potency of sex, no man would stand a chance with Lilian.
    ‘And doesn’t he still?’
    ‘Oh yes,’ Lilian said sadly. ‘When he tries. When he notices me at all.’
    She was not stupid, Sarah had long since decided. She had an intuitive intelligence which showed in her taste and her ability to create order out of chaos, but analysis was not her strong point. She could not hold to a subject for long, and did not want to delve deep. Above all, she could not take blame, or have it pointed out to her that anything could ever be her fault, or even the result of something she had done. She wanted emotional massage, not suggestions. Concentration, even on her own preoccupations, was difficult. Sarah put it down to stress. And God, she was a beautiful girl. Not only classically lovely, but a male icon of beauty, with blonde hair, big boobs, tiny waist and endless legs. She had every excuse for imagining that was all she had tobe, for dwelling in the